


First (and Maybe Last)

by NightmareSparklePony



Series: Ghosts of Christmas' Past [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Amnesiac Bucky Barnes, Angst and Feels, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Christmas Eve, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Not a cheery Christmas story, POV Bucky Barnes, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve can be an idiot when it comes to Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareSparklePony/pseuds/NightmareSparklePony
Summary: The Winter Soldier stayed with Steve on the bank of The Potomac and was taken to Avenger's Tower while Steve recovered. After seven months, Steve learns Bucky is not actually remembering his past as quickly as it seems but is instead relying on a journal which he reads every morning."They found you on the river bank with his head on your lap. They say you tried to kill him. They say you saved his life. He says he is your friend. He says you've known him your whole life. He says your name is Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. He says he's with you til the end of the line."





	First (and Maybe Last)

**Author's Note:**

> I began this series last December and have outlines for three to four parts, but alas life and my tendency to jump around with what I'm writing means I've still only completed part one. Part two is almost completed but three and/or may not be completed until next year.  
> This is my first fan fiction I am posting to Archive of Our Own. Hopefully after I break the ice, I can post some of my other works.  
> Warning: This is not a cheery Christmas fiction. Actually, it's kind of a bummer. Maybe it's a good idea to read it on another day-Christmas in July perhaps.

**2014**

  I wake to the sound of a heart rate monitor and a feeding tube up my nose. Experience tells me to not let them know I'm awake. To allow myself a few precious moments of small comfort, like the warm blanket pulled up to my chin. No doubt placed there to speed the thawing process. I hadn't missed the fact that magnetic cuffs connect my arms and legs to the bed.  
  “Bruce,” a voice to the right says. I hear the scrape of the chair against the floor as the person who spoke rises out of it. “What'd the test show? What's going on with him?” The voice has a faint accent that is familiar to me. American. New York. No Brooklyn.  
  “The scans show no further damage. In fact this part here, the one that holds most long term memory shows a marked improvement from the first scan,” the other voice explains. Most likely a technician or perhaps even a doctor. They are constantly looking for ways to make the most efficient use of the wipes. Perhaps something went wrong with the last wipe.  
  “Then why isn't he waking up!” The first man sounds impatient. Must be my handler. His voice is familiar so I must have worked for him on at least three other missions. That was the reason they can't inflict too much damage to long term memory during the wipes. I must have heard the story of the time they did a level 10 wipe and had to retrain me how to even hold a rifle a half dozen times, otherwise I wouldn't have remembered it. Had taken them a year to get me back in the field. Of course, I don't really remember the details.  
  “Steve,” the technician explains.“ All I can tell you is that his brain looks healthier than it did six months ago. Still a little worried about this section that transfers information from short term to long term, but you said he was doing OK with that. ”  
  “I need him to wake up. I need him awake by tomorrow,” the handler replies softly. He doesn't sound angry, just sad. Sometimes those were the worst. They'd punish you and say you deserved it because you made them feel so bad. You disappointed them. I hear the heart rate monitor beeps increase in frequency and know my cover is blown. Slowly I open my eyes.  
  “Bucky!” the handler says with a smile on his face. He seems friendly. “There's those beautiful baby blues,” he says softly as he cradles my face in both hands. I don't flinch but he must sense something is wrong because he quickly removes his hands and backs away from the bed. All I can do is close my eyes and steel myself for a beating.  
  “Buck, Bucky,” he whispers. “Look at me.” I have no choice but to comply. “Do you know who I am? It's all right if you don't.” I'm not an idiot. I know that “no” is never the answer.  
  “Yes. You're Steve,” I croak out around the feeding tube. My eyes dart to the cuffs around my wrists and my heart drops when “Steve” notices this.  
  “Oh, Baby.” Again he is over top of me, hands skittishly roaming over my arms and face. “The cuffs. I'm so sorry but we had to keep them on while the nurses were here just in case...” Just in case of what, I wonder? Fuck. I must have become erratic and struck out at a technician. Now I will be punished even though I have no control how long I'm out of cryo freeze and they know what happens if I'm out too long! “Hey. Bucky,” the handler says softly. “You still with me?” I nod.  
  “Steve,” the Doctor interrupts and my handler finally takes his hands off me. “We'll get a nurse in here to take out the tubes and get him settled. Why don't you go home and get some rest.”  
  “I don't want to leave him alone,” Steve replies while stroking my cheek. His touch seems familiar so he must like to put his hands on me. So far he hasn't hurt me but that doesn't mean he won't once we are left alone.  
“You've barely left his side in almost a month,” the Doctor says as he shines a pen light in my eyes. He has soft, kind eyes like the handler. “You've been away from your apartment for weeks and I thought you might need to get some things ready for tomorrow.” That's right. The important mission deploys tomorrow.  
  “Is he going to be well enough to release tomorrow?” the handler asks with excitement in his voice.  
  The Doctor places the stethoscope against my chest. “Don't see why not. He's doing remarkably well considering he's been unconscious this long. The serum seems to prevent muscle atrophy even when metabolism is not slowed by freezing temperatures. Wonder if it could be applicable to degenerative muscle diseases? Hey, But why make progress in medical science when we can just make super soldiers.”  
  The nurse comes in and begins removing the feeding tube. It's uncomfortable but I remain compliant through out. She pulls down the sheet to remove the catheter but The Doctor stops her before she lifts the bottom of the gown I'm wearing.  
  “James,” the Doctors asks. “Would you like Steve to leave first?” I shrug my shoulders because it is not up to me who witnesses any procedure done to me.  
  “It's OK,” Steve says. “I've got a lot to to do if everything's going to be ready for tomorrow. Bucky,” He kisses my cheek. “I'll see you tomorrow.” Then he kisses me on the mouth. I swallow hard and croak out, “Yeah. Bye.” I guess it's enough of a reply because he has a huge smile on his face when he leaves.  
  I lean back against the bed and sigh. It's becoming apparent the Handler....Steve wants something from me other than my skills as an assassin. Maybe he performed beyond expectations and I've been given to him as a reward. He seemed nice enough so maybe it wouldn't be too bad and even if it was an act, anything is better than being forced to end the life of another person.  
  “Are you ready?” the nurse asks. I nod. This is very different from most of the Hydra facilities I remember. She gently removes the remaining tubes, taking care to not to hurt me.  
  “Thanks Doris,” The Doctor says as she leaves the room. “Ok, James. I want you to answer me honestly. Do you know who I am?”  
  He was testing me. “You're Bruce,” I reply. “You're the Doctor.”  
  “Yes. And you could have gotten that much from listening to our conversation.” I'm not supposed to pay attention to what the people around me are saying so I jump when he grabs my shoulder. “Do you know my last name?”  
  I stare down at my lap as I shake my head. He's going to tell the Handler that I lied. “Do you know who Steve is?” I almost say yes, that he is my handler. But suddenly that doesn't seem right but the name “Steve” conjures up a different image in my mind.  
  " James,” he says quietly, bending down to catch my eyes with his. “It's OK that you don't remember. But it doesn't do any good to hide it from us. Especially not from Steve. He's trying to help you, but he's just going to do more damage if you aren't honest with him. If you remember anything at all about him, you know Steve blames himself for everything that's happened to you and all he wants is to help you. He won't be able to handle it if he thinks he's hurting you in anyway.”  
  I not sure what he's implying. There has to be a key here to what is going on. “Are you going to tell him?'  
  “I can't,” Bruce shakes his head. “As much as I want to. As much as I think it's for the best. I can't. Since I've been acting as your physician, everything we talk about is covered by Doctor/Patient privilege.”  
  I want to ask him what he knows about me but suddenly I'm drained. Could I really trust this Steve enough to confide in him? Sensing my fatigue, Bruce releases the mag cuffs. “Go ahead. Get ready for bed.”  
  I must look confused because he adds with a sad sigh. “Go to the bathroom, wash your face, brush your teeth and relieve yourself if you need to. Here are some pajamas for you to change into.”  
  “Thank you,” I say as I enter the small room. A tightness grips my chest and I wonder if my heart is failing. I am so fucking scared. On one hand, I don't remember these people which makes them unpredictable. On the other, I just admitted to lying to the Doctor and there was no beating or electric prod. Instead I had been given privacy and the opportunity to care for myself. Maybe I can trust them. I want to trust Steve. I decide that tomorrow I'm going to tell him the truth and hope he still wants to help me.

  I awake to the electronic door unlocking. A man with rumbled clothes, messy brown hair and glasses greets me. “Good afternoon, James.”  
  Who's James, I wonder but don't dare ask. The man is a doctor. I can tell by the way he carries himself. “Good afternoon, Doctor,” I mumble, not making eye contact.  
  “Hm,” he says, making a note on the chart. “What can you tell me about yesterday?”  
  This is a trick. If a wipe is successful, I should not be able to tell any detail about yesterday. Just then a voice from over head says, “Dr. Banner. Captain Rogers has just arrived at the tower. Should I allow him into the suite?”  
  “Thanks Jarvis. Tell him I have some additional tests to run on Sargent Barnes before he can be released. He can get a cup of coffee with Tony.”  
  Captain Rogers. The name was familiar. Question is whether he's a target or a part of the team. The Doctor turns back to me. “What were you doing earlier today?”  
  Swallowing hard, I start my readiness report. “I awoke at 0800 hours. I ingested a meal of oatmeal, four eggs, over firm. Coffee, orange juice....”  
  “That's good James, very good,” the Doctor says with a sad smile. “But can you tell me what happened yesterday?”  
  Suddenly the door bursts open and a man who I presume is Captain Rogers strides in and sternly looks at me. He is definitely my handler and he looks mad as hell. He loudly commands,“Don't bother with any tests, Bruce. I can tell you right now he doesn't remember anything. Do you Bucky? At least not without this.”  
  He throws a leather bound book on the bed. Instantly, the thought crystalizes that it is the most important thing in my life. I pick it up and clutch it to myself.  
  “Take it easy, Steve,” The Doctor says as he moves to get between the Captain and my bed.  
  “You knew! You knew the whole time, he didn't remember me. Didn't know what was going on most of the time. Why didn't you tell me?”  
  I open the book while the Captain's attention is on the Doctor. The handwriting is scribbled, and in Russian, but I can still read the words.

**_They found you on the river bank with his head on your lap. They say you tried to kill him. They say you saved his life. He says he is your friend. He says you've known him your whole life. He says your name is Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. He says he's with you til the end of the line._ **

Images fly through my mind. A mission. Captain America. Fire. Blood. A small boy, then a small man. I am beating him then he falls.  
  “James,” the Doctor says softly. “You're all right. You're safe. Steve is going to calm down and talk like a rational human being or he is going to leave the room.”  
  “Bucky. I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you, I promise. Just surprised, OK?” The Captain takes a big breath. “Bruce how could you keep something this important to yourself?”  
  “I wasn't sure. I only really suspected it last night. Besides I've been acting as his physician since Natasha brought him to the tower. I can't tell you anything without his permission.”  
  “And you think he has the capacity to make his own decisions?”

**_They took you to a big tower, a glass room. The Doctor. Dr. Banner._ **

“Dr. Banner,” I whisper. “Bruce.” I am starting to remember. He was nice to me. Said he understood not being in control of your own actions.  
  “Steve, you're the one who insisted he be allowed to make his own choices. Come on, you lived with him the past four months and never realized he wasn't actually remembering? Maybe you just didn't want to see it. Seems to me, I did warn you against starting a relationship with him this soon.”

**_Dr. Banner said Steve would survive. That Captain America would be OK. I don't know why this makes me feel so strange. Happy?relieved? He said that Steve would be here soon. Where ever here is? I don't think I've ever been to this base before. The doctor seems nice. He gave this book and he even let me keep the pen that is attached to it._ **

  I remember the warm feeling I had in my chest when he explained that yes, the book was mine and I could keep the pen. He had asked, “You don't plan to hurt yourself with it?” I had shaken my head to indicate no. At that point I still wasn't talking much. “Promise you won't hurt anyone else with it?” I nodded. The pen and the book were suddenly the most important thing in the world to me.

**_Captain America came to see me today. His face is bruised. I know I did that to him and thought he would punish me. He said he wouldn't hurt me. Apologized for hurting my arm but I didn't give him any other choice. Said to call him Steve. But he's not Steve. I remember a smaller man, one that wouldn't back down from a fight, one I would die for, one I would kill for....He's not the same Steve._ **

  Memories of the small, blond, man fighting in an alley run through my mind. What would happen to him if I wasn't there to finish what he started? He was such a punk. I remember him begging me, “Promise me, no matter what, you'll come home to me.” I was breaking my promise. The next opportunity I need to get away and find Steve. I quickly flip to a page with no writing, take the pen from the holder and write my plan down.  
  “He was doing so well,” Steve says shaking his head. “Everyday he remembered more and more. He was so much like the Bucky I knew, maybe not before the war, but during. That couldn't have just been an act, could it?”  
  “No. Personality is set very young. It's very difficult to erase. Even as the Winter Soldier he is in many ways James Barnes.” Steve takes a sharp breath, which makes me look up at him. There is a look of misery on his face. “Maybe he was getting better, you were helping him, Steve. But you have to remember what he's been through...just to survive, he had to learn to adapt. All his focus was on pleasing whoever was in charge.”  
  “But we did...stuff,” Steve whispers with his eyes on me. “I'm sure that's what caused....”  
  “James,” Dr. Banner commands. “Why don't you go take a shower? Steve brought you some clothes.” He hands them to me. “Here. Make sure you shave and brush your teeth.” They watch as I enter the bathroom, making sure to take my journal with me.

  When I exit, freshly showered, shaved and hair neatly combed, Steve is sitting in a chair by the window. The sunlight glancing off his hair reminds me of another and causes a lump to form in my throat.  
  “Ready to go, Buck?” he asks when he sees me. “Bruce...Dr. Banner thought it would be good for you to go home...uh to my apartment for a few days. Til after Christmas.”  
  “Christmas?” I had no idea it was Christmas.  
  “Yeah. It's a Holiday to celebrate the birth...,” Steve starts to explain.  
  “I remember what Christmas is. Just didn't know it was today.”  
  “Oh, actually it's tomorrow. Today's Christmas eve,” he said looking at me with a soulful look to his eyes. “Ok, Let's go then.”  
  Dr. Banner comes in and hands Steve a folder. “Here's a list of several therapists with experience in PTSD. Sam can help you if you have any question regarding their treatment methods. For a neurologist there is only one name on the list. Dr. Stephen Strange knows more about the brain than any one else I know. And he's always looking for a challenge.”  
  Steve takes the folder and shakes Bruce's hand. “Thanks. And sorry about being a jerk earlier.”  
  No. I'm the jerk I think to myself. “Merry Christmas, Bruce.”  
  “Well, Thanks but I'm Jewish,” Bruce replies then releases Steve's hand to address me. “James, I want you to have a good Christmas but that doesn't mean you have to leave here with Steve if you don't feel comfortable doing that. I'm sure we could come up with something here.”  
  “Yeah, Buck,” Steve says, all hunched over with his hands deep in his jean pockets. “If you'd feel better staying here with Bruce, I'll just spend the night in my apartment here and see you in the morning.”  
  I shake my head. I want to leave the tower. It will be so much easier to escape from Steve's apartment. “No. I want to go home with Steve. It may help me remember. Really remember.”  
  “Well good,” Bruce says as he holds my jacket out for me to put on. “Merry Christmas, James. I'll see you in a few days.”  
  “Happy Hanukkah,” I reply in Yiddish.

  The drive to Steve's apartment is silent except for the stop at the drive through. He didn't ask me what I want but I like everything he got me. Steve only takes a few bites of his foot before throwing it back into the bag. He tosses it in the garbage before we enter the building. It concerns me because I know Steve can't afford to miss any meals...No. That's someone else.  
  When Steve opens the door to his apartment, the smell of pine permeates my senses. There is an eight foot natural pine in by the window, decorated with ornaments. As he takes my coat he explains, “We never could afford a tree. When I got out of the ice, didn't see the point to it since I didn't have you to share it with.”  
  Automatically I move to the tree and begin to touch the needles. I remember having a tree. Either it was enormous or I was smaller. Maybe as a child? I don't know how long I've stood there when Steve nudges my elbow and hands me a cup of hot liquid. When I taste the smooth chocolate I can't help but smile.  
  “You always did love sweet things,” Steve says as he sits on the couch. “Sit here with me for a minute so we can talk.”  
  I immediately comply lest he takes away my drink. “You know I hate that you act like I'm your handler. I'm not. You have to know that Bucky!” Steve exclaims looking straight into my eyes. “I'm not going to punish you for not remembering.” He nods towards my mug. “I'll never take anything away from you if don't do something I ask. And you do not have to let me touch you, in any way, if you don't want me to. Your body belongs to you, Bucky. You decide who can touch you and how they can touch you. Do you understand?”  
  I nod then ask. “What happens after tomorrow?”  
  “Bruce and I discussed it and we decided it may be best if we move you back to the tower for awhile. You can get more intensive treatment that way.”  
  “So much for deciding who can touch me,” I reply before I think better of talking back to him.  
  He looks at me with a small grin. Now I remember that unlike most handlers, Steve actually likes me to talk back...to make “fun”. “I'm talking about a psychiatrist to figure out what causes you to blank out and Bruce wants to bring in a neurologist to get a better look at your scans so we can get you some specialized therapy to help with your memory.”  
  “I don't get a say in any of this?” When did the thought of lack of control begin to cause me anxiety? I've never had control.  
  “Bucky, we've done it your way for six months and all you have to show for it is a journal you need to look at every day.” Steve stands and stalks around the apartment. “If you remember anything, you'd know the significance of today. Why it is so important to us!”  
  “It's Christmas Eve.” He's making me feel nervous. Like the ground is ready to drop from beneath my feet.  
  “Bucky. We made love for the first time on Christmas Eve. You were sixteen, I was fifteen. My mom was working overnight at the hospital so she could have Christmas Day off.” He bends down to tilt my head so my eyes meet his. “My God, Baby. You were the best gift I ever got. It was a dream come true. You were all I ever wanted.”  
  I break away from him and move to the other side of the room, arms wrapped protectively around myself. “That's a lie,” I shout. “I don't belong to you. I belong to Steve.” I remember. He had moved so gently inside of me, whispered that it was all right. That he loved me. “You're the only one, Stevie,” I whisper. A tear rolls down my cheek.  
  This other Steve... No. I'm not going to call him Steve anymore. He's not my Steve! Captain America stands and approaches me slowly with his hands raised. “Bucky, you're right.”  
  I rush by him so he can't get too close to me. “Don't call me that! You don't get to call me Bucky!” Only one person could call me by that name.  
He stands still with pained expression on his face. “Ssh. It's OK...James. You need to calm down. Now take a deep breath.” I'm frightened because I know I'm becoming erratic. Soon they'll have no choice but to wipe me. I can't let that happen. I can't lose Steve. “That's good, James. So good. You're right. You do belong to Steve. It's OK. He loves you so much and just wants you back. I promise I'll help you get back to him.” Tears are brimming in his eyes, threatening to run down his face too.  
  I need to find Steve. He knows me. He can help me remember. “You were lying before, weren't you? About what we did. You had to be. I would never with anyone else? Would I?” My voice sounds so small and pathetic.  
  “Yeah”, Captain America says while shaking his head. “It was just a trick to help you remember. I'm sorry I hurt you. You doing alright now?” I continue to take deep breaths while I nod my head. “Well, it's getting pretty late and I've had a strenuous day of decorating. What do you say we call it a night? See you tomorrow, Bu...James.” He watches as I go to the door of my bedroom.  
  “Good night,” I say as I enter my room which I survey immediately. It seems familiar. Large bed with a green quilt, patterned with rustic looking leaves. There's a sturdy wooden end table on either side. There is a note on the one on the far side with large block letters ordering, “OPEN. READ”. I reach for the notebook and know that is where I keep it. The Captain is right. I need to read my book every morning so I don't forget everything. Oh! I need to write. I need to keep Steve.

**_Steve. Stevie. I wanted so much. But it's wrong. My family will throw me out. My father will beat me. But I want. You make me want. I remember knowing that you are so much bigger down below than anyone would suspect. More than enough to satisfy any woman I told you before I tried you with my mouth the first time. Don't want no woman, Baby, you said. That night I was so nervous. Once I did this there was no going back. I knew I would be going to Hell for this, but I didn't want to risk taking you with me. You laughed. Said I was perfect. Beautiful. That we didn't have to if I wasn't ready. But it didn't take you long to get me ready. To the point of begging. It was painful at first but you gentled me with your words and lips over my face, down my neck. Once you began to move, I finally realized what it was to be free. To be who I really am. Yours. Totally. Completely. Must have passed out from the pleasure because my next memory is of you holding me. Feeling so safe in your arms even though you were much smaller than me. You were so worried you'd hurt me. I cried. Don't know why. Too much feeling? I knew then, I was never marrying some girl. I wouldn't be able to fake it with her. Knew I had to keep up appearances if only to keep you safe. How is it possible to be so Happy and so Miserable at the same time?_ **

  The spell of memory is broken when I realize the sound of the speed bag in the next room has stopped. Maybe Captain America has finally gone to sleep. This may be my only opportunity to escape. Silently, I move to the adjoining wall and cup my ear to it.  
  “Nat,” the Captain's voice says huskily. “Sorry to bother you....what't that noise?. Oh. You're working? On Christmas Eve? Yeah just another day. You know those files you offered to give me? Yeah. I need them now....Well. Somethings happened. No. He's out of the coma. Turns out he doesn't really remember. Bruce thought having more detailed medical records might help. I know. I know. It's ugly. I'll do anything to help get him back.”  
  So he doesn't want to help me find Steve. He wants to keep me for himself, just as I thought. “No. Next week's fine. We're moving back to the tower. OK. Merry Christmas, Nat. Yeah I know you don't believe in Christmas. Yeah. I will. Goodnight.”  
  I listened carefully for two minutes before deciding to go to the kitchen to see if his light is still on. It is. Then I hear the whisk of the jump rope. Apparently the Captain was not as tired as he claimed. Unable to delay any longer, I open the door to the bedroom. Silently, I move through the kitchen going through the drawers, pulling out anything to I can use as a weapon. Two small paring knives, a corkscrew, and a colorful packet of swizzle sticks are carefully placed in the back of my jeans. The large sweat shirt will conceal them if Ste...The Captain were to interrupt me.  
  I notice his wallet in the dish with keys by the door. I could steal his motorcycle, but I bet there is a tracker on it. He might not even know about it himself but I know how these organizations work. I remember Dr. Banner telling me that they had discovered three trackers on me but, not to worry, they had destroyed them all. Carefully, I pick up the wallet and examine the contents. I won't take the I.D. or the cards, but thankfully there is over a hundred dollars in cash. “Only old people carry cash,” I remember a trainer telling me. I don't take it all, that will be noticeable, opting instead to take three ones, a couple fives, tens, and twenties. Just enough that a person would expect to have spent on a few random transactions and not notice as missing.  
  As I'm heading to my room, I notice a backpack. It 's big, but inconspicuous enough so that perhaps The Captain will not notice it is missing right away. I take my loot to my room and sit on the bed. While I wait, I realize I should leave Captain America a note otherwise he might think I was kidnapped by Hydra. Reluctantly, I ripped out the last page of my journal.

**_Captain,_ **

**_Thank you for everything you've done to help me. I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be but I now know I belong to someone else. I think the only way for me to find myself is to start over from the beginning. Don't worry about me. When I find Steve he will help me remember._ **

**_Your Friend,_ **  
**_James_ **

  Just as I finish, the shower next door starts to run. I tuck the journal into the backpack, then fold the note in half and leave it in the center of the bed. A quick scan tells me I haven't forgotten anything. Carefully I leave the room and head to the front door. The security system has been engaged, but repetition has etched the numbers into my brain. Three...one...zero...one...seven. Silently I leave the apartment and go to the roof where I know there are no security cameras. I jump over to the next building then climb down the fire escape to an alley. Once I get to the main street I walk swiftly with a purpose even though I'm not quite sure where I'm going. As soon as possible I will stop to make some notes. I cannot forget my new mission. To find Steve I will retrace my steps starting in the first place I started having memories of my past life; Washington D.C.


End file.
